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Breeze and whispers

Speck of breeze,

swirling like dust,

illusion to the eyes,

intoxicating the mind,

it ain’t lust.

furrow to the world’s maladies,

Oh! death!

Don’t think of yourself as the end,

a tragedy wrecked on ordinary mortals,

you may seep into birth,

sprinkling hopes.

labyrinth humans strive to find themselves,

ever fancied yourself as gentle breeze,

touching the inner soul,

plain whisper in the ears,

love we long to behold,

you can turn into foam.


or angel protecting the soul,

unscathed are few divine by your power,

Oh! breeze,

i long to be twirled and cascaded in your wonder,

yet I admire your many forms,

to save me from myself,

taking me into your might.



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One day we shall…

One day we shall bid goodbye,

there shall not be forever,


passionate love,

anxiety or sadness,

this day shall come,

when the heart shall stop beating,

friends seeing us in the past,

we shall be buried in memory,

a reminder about us and twinge of a smile,

he was this guy,

one day my friend,

our pain shall be wiped to dust,

what we shall be wondering and thinking,


sadness or beyond,


what remain of us is ashes,

till this day comes,

break bones,

indulge in madness,

for there is no age to taste rain soaked happiness,



and fuck as if there is no tomorrow,

one day we shall.



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One day we shall become

One day we shall become,

deep and inner desires,

what we crave for,

our dreams hitting an end,

on a stormy destination,

pain sucking blood,

the love we long for,

emotions is our favorite child,

bad emotions,

good emotions,

hijacking identity,

for one day we shall,

put memories to rest,

shed the tears of happiness,

the unquenched,

soaring into seamless skies,

drenched in the clouds,

build tiny stars,

where vision shall not be shrouded,

pulling down the veil,

wearing heart on the sleeve.

one day we shall become,

what we want to be.



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Bury the kiss

Kiss of life,

sensation of morning coffee shot,

who invented coffee date?

both makes for a damn good fuck,

splintering the brain,

tastes better than scotch?

take a bet!

you gonna loose all wealth,

making love to her,

kiss slowly and gently,

hit an elixir,

biting into each other,

ain’t the forbidden apple,

cigarette curled on lip,

caressing the edges,

feels smooth,

imagining intense love making,

wind chime, dust and foggy air,

consummated smoke,

feels lot like love, right,

the toxic fuck, lies, and passion,

wash them ashore,

bury the kiss.



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the lost spark

Love is intoxication,

swirling to passion’s flow,

all jazz is mere illusion,

tripping to the invisible face,

who lied blatantly to your soul?

sprinkling dust,

a speck of mud,

light the fire,

spark is all it takes,

falling for the invisible face,

heart broken into tinies,

truth shall hit you hard,

where shall hearts heal?

drenched in the liquor,

the candle shall melt,

a tiny spark,

curled smoke disappearing with the wind.



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Labyrinth of emotions

Intoxicated mind,

you’re no liquor,

swirling like snipper into the brain,

love incapacitates,

spiralling into a labyrinth,

silly emotions,

wears no reason,

cloak of illusion,

battling myriad feelings,

carried till the grave,

haunting us,

a dusted voice from far off,

stark reminder in form of gentle whisper,

kiss lost in translation,

holding hands,

walking under the heat,

flutter of wind at the Arabian sea,

reminds about emotion left behind,

the mind is powerful,

so is the heart longing,

it knows no reason,

intimacy is not buried,

nor is loving someone,

taking the form of ghoul,

kicking the soul and tender heart,

who told the mind is not controlled,

friendship carved over the years,

the path we left,

we never move on,

if we choose to,

call it illusion,

for voices and whispers,

take birth multitude times,

stroking imagination,

never trust the sunlight,

will you?

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Intoxicated love

It was the spring of love,

age of innocence,

sex waiting to be explored,

where testosterone ran high and unabated,

kissing in the first splash of rain,

stroking the lip,

flowing like saliva’s juice,

 running deep,

we missed moments to make memories,


passionate love,

wild like berries,

waiting to be plucked,

 in Adam and Eve’s garden,

nursing a life of regret,

basking in eternity of the unquenched feeling,

we didn’t kiss in the rain,

 sunk into intimacy on beach,

yet we should make love,

break our hearts and step into the melancholy,

straddling onto the unknown,

some love stories are like that,

intoxicated forever,

for making love and carefree romance is ageless.



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Fragrance and arousal

Scent of your skin,

piercing my nostril,

sensual touch,

soft and tender fragrance,

running your gentle and flawless fingers,

cupped on my face,

feels like lust,

orgasm doesn’t need a climax,

dipping and licking into honeyish sensation,

gentle kissing and biting,

lips melting,

stroking your fluttering hair,

exploring every inch,

passionate drip,

feels like vaccine,

waxing the lone souls,

searing intensity,

intimate game played,

in past and present,

distant dreams,

smearing each other’s skin,

it’s no sex,

finding the placid in the cold stares,

show me your emotions,

not just the naked body,

untying your bra,

guiding me in caressing,

biting into your nipple,

i feel nothing,

for we are emotional and lifeless souls,

just craving and longing,

arousal died slowly that night.





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Feels like a kiss

Breeze’s inlet,

caressing the soul,

dunk in intensity,

lips tracing colors of adventure,

singing the tune of wind’s chime,

borrowing on time,

the night swooning to unquenched tune,

love’s fragrance,

chill reaching crescendo,

percolating into skins,

moments shall wane,

lovers shall do apart,

lips melting and swayed,

to branches clattering,

leaves drying,

for a new season shall surface,

yellowish crepuscule,

tiny rain caking faces,

feels like a kiss,

flitting into night’s lullaby.



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The story thief

Stories staring at me,

ideas brimming,

whipping a flavor,

ain’t writing,

for there are blocks and fears,

who judge aspiring writer,

drenched in his melancholic and ego trip,

mediocrity is alter ego to pompous,

stormy writing aspirations for years,

hey! I can write,

flip the pages,

idea gone for a toss,

lazy writer,

bury the manuscripts,

incomplete drafts,

days lost and turned into years,

i’m the idea thief,

who never burgled the story,

just a ranting,

don’t you mind!